Who Deserves What?
by TheSecretWhisperer
Summary: The season 8 finale from Sam's point of view... Does everyone really deserve to be loved? Does he, Sam Winchester, after all that he has done?


**AN: Yes, I'm back, with a new name and a new perspective! Or not…. Whatever…**

'**Monster' by Imagine Dragons. No intended copyright violation. Thanks to my friend samstruck (read her fics!) for indirectly inspiring this fic.**

_Ever since I could remember,  
Everything inside of me,  
Just wanted to fit in…_

That's all he ever wanted. To be normal. To fit in. To play soccer, go to college, have a family–the whole white-picket-fence life. And he tried. He really did. But some things just couldn't be changed. Sam Winchester had the life of a hunter chosen for him. There was nothing he could do about it.

_I was never one for pretenders,  
Everything I tried to be,  
Just wouldn't settle in…_

He remembered Jess. Her comforting smile, the smell of her hair, the way she fit perfectly in his arms, her eyes wide in fear and sorrow shock and a million unsaid words between them as he watched her burn. She didn't deserve that. Neither did his mom. They were dead because of him. If it wasn't for him, they would both still be alive. But they weren't, yet here he was. He couldn't end it, even if he wanted to. Dean always saw to that.

Dean. His brother. How much he loved him. How many times he had disappointed him. But not tonight. Tonight he would succeed. He intended to, not matter what the consequences would be.

_If I told you what I was,  
Would you turn your back on me?  
And if I seem dangerous,  
Would you be scared?  
I get the feeling just because,  
Everything I touch isn't dark enough  
If this problem lies in me…_

Sam believed the problem _was _in him. No, he _knew_ it was. He had told Dean that this whole shutting-the-gates-of-Hell thing was not a suicide mission for him. A small part of him doubted that. What if it was? Maybe he just wanted it all to be over. But a bigger part of him just wanted to make Dean proud.

So right now, after burning Abbadon back to whatever hellhole she came from, Sam pulled Crowley, along with the chair he was bound to, back into place.

"You did good back there, Moose." Sam looked up. "I'll deny it if you ever quote me, but I'm a proud man. I'm proud of you."

Wow, what was up with him?

"Thanks," said Sam, and continued as he planned, despite Crowley's protests, to fix the Devil's trap that Abbadon, had so _conveniently_ destroyed.

Crowley was rambling.

"I just saved you life."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously? Me seriously?..." Crowley kept talking, but Sam jabbed the syringe into his neck. It was high time someone sent Crowley and the likes back where they belonged, and kept them there.

Crowley continued to babble. "Don't we all– you, me? We deserve to be loved." No, thought Sam. He didn't deserve to be loved. All the people he'd let down, all the people who were dead because of him. After the derailed Apocalypse, if Cas hadn't brought him back, Dean would be living a normal life. If he wasn't born, his parents and Dean would have been a normal family. Did he deserve to be loved?

"I DESERVE TO BE LOVED! I just want to be loved." It was working. There was no way in hell, all pun intended, that the demon Crowley, the King of Hell would say something like that. Sam could feel it in the air, like the buzz of electricity. He was so close.

_I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,  
I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.  
A monster, a monster,  
I've turned into a monster,  
A monster, a monster,  
And it keeps getting stronger_…

This was it. The last syringe of Sam's blood was now in Crowley's neck. He could almost taste his success. His heart began to beat faster. It had all lead up to this. The past year, all the sacrifices that had been made, and, unknown to Sam, one yet to be made– it all lead up to this. He made a cut on his palm, deep enough to draw blood. He saw the telltale glow in his hand, telling him he was doing it right. He didn't feel the pain, just the wild thumping of his heart. Almost like the deafening crescendo before the painful silence, the tension of the moment had built up beautifully.

"Sammy, stop!"

No, this could not be happening. Why was Dean asking him to stop? He asked what was going on. Dean tried explaining it to him.

"You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."

"So?"

So? That one little word was all that was needed to be said. So what if he died? Did he deserve to live? Not even his big brother trusted him. Hell, he had trusted a vampire more than him! Sam had practically no sense of self-worth left. He just wanted to finish the goddamn trials, accomplish something. So? One word that wonderfully, bitterly, painfully summed it all up.

_Can I clear my conscience,  
If I'm different from the rest,  
Do I have to run and hide?_

_I never said that I want this,  
This burden came to me,  
And it's made it's home inside…_

Then followed an outburst of brotherly affection, a highly concentrated version of the infamous 'Chick Flick Moment' that Dean so hated, yet was so good at creating.

Slowly, unwillingly, Sam let it go. All that pent up desperation and angst. He just tried to breathe as Dean hugged him.

"Let it go, brother."

He did– and god, it felt so good. He was just about to show Dean that it was it was over. He felt a slight tingle of pain, getting stronger by the second. He could see the blurry figure of Dean, and distantly heard him say "See?" with a slight smile.

And then it happened. Sam's whole world exploded in white hot pain. He didn't know who he was, what was happening to him. He couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted it to end.

_I'm only a man with a candle to guide me,  
I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me.  
A monster, a monster,  
I've turned into a monster,  
A monster, a monster,  
And it keeps getting stronger._

**AN: So…. Sorry for any typos, and… Review! I DESERVE TO BE REVIWED!**


End file.
